


Loaded Knife

by Semi_problematic



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Betrayal, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Consensual Underage Sex, Drinking, F/M, Falling In Love, Feminization, Forbidden Love, Gang Violence, Gangs, M/M, Mutual Pining, Time Skips, Underage Sex, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 23:08:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19261015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semi_problematic/pseuds/Semi_problematic
Summary: Negan was twenty six and the head gangster of the Anarchists. Carl was seventeen, eager to piss off his parents, and oh so willing to love.-Gangster!Negan and teen!Carl





	Loaded Knife

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, just a few warnings.   
> 1\. Carl is 17 when this begins and 18 when it ends. He consented the entire time.   
> 2\. There is mentions of sexual assault, molestation, and pedophilia, but it's one sentence so I didn't tag it because it isn't a HUGE part of the plot.   
> 3\. There is random smut but it's brief each time.  
> 4\. Brief mentions of public sex, drugs, and drinking. Underage drinking might I add.

Carl eyed himself in the mirror, looking between his damp hair and his clean shaven face. He rocked back and forth on his feet, something his father often complained about him doing. Their house was old, so each and every movement Carl made Rick, his father, could hear. Carl combed his fingers through his hair, halting his movements against the creaking floorboards. His jeans hung low on his hips but squeezed his legs. The shirt he wore was one of his fathers. It was too big, thin, white t-shirt that had been a part of Rick’s uniform until Carl stole it for himself. 

 

After one last glance into the mirror, Carl turned away and picked up his new leather jacket. When he wrapped it around himself, he sighed, allowing the old Carl to become the new one. Old Carl was known as the nerd who read too many comics, had one friend, and was the loser whose dad was the sheriff. New Carl was someone who snuck out of his room at midnight or one to meet up with his boyfriend, he was strong and desirable, and tonight, he would also become one of them. An Anarchist. 

 

Before they were titled as The Anarchist’s they were known as the King County Killers. The war between gangsters and government started when Carl was twelve years old. Several men who worked at his school or on his soccer team were found dead. After their deaths, many came forward about sexual assault, rape, and molestation. Despite them killing bad people the King County police force put all their effort into finding the gang and putting them in prison. 

 

When the war began the leader was named Simon. He died at thirty-nine  in a driveby shooting from a rival gang, and rumor had it that he died with money in one hand, a knife in the other, and a cigarette still burning between his lips when he was found. Now, at eighteen, the new leader was a man with slicked back hair and a Chesire cat smile. Negan. Negan was Simon’s right hand man until he died then at nineteen Negan took the gang over and has stayed alive for six years. His reign as the leader was one of the longest between gangs in the area.

 

There had still been losses, though. Anarchists dying or ending up in jail with sentences impossible to live through. Shane, Carl’s father's best friend, was one of the cops who killed one. His name was Dwight and he had a nasty burn on his face from a fight. The scar was the only way his wife was able to identify him. Dwight's body showed obvious signs of overkill, twenty three bullets inside him and five that went through him or grazed his skin. Shane caught Dwight following one of their next victims and attacked him, beating him then shooting him until he was out of ammo. Shane was proud of himself, but Rick wasn't. Rick hated the gang as much as everyone else, but he didn't believe in murdering them. 

 

And as Carl grew up, he hated the gang too. They were nothing but bad news. Their kills focused mainly on people who deserved it along with other gang members in the area who abused their power or had a deal fall through. Every once in a while an innocent person would get caught in the crossfire. Carl lost one of his teachers in a drive by shooting and then he lost a friend whose father was in a different gang and got killed. Carl swore to stay away from the gang until he was seventeen and went to a pool hall. 

 

Carl's friend Enid was a year older than him and worked at a pool hall Rick always told him was bad news. People were fucking on the pool tables while others played games around them. Women snorted coke off of the pool sticks and men praised them for it. The first night Carl went he was filled with a horrific anxiety he had never felt, but also filled with a disgusting curiosity. In his father's clean cut town, a town that was defined by suburbia, this place excited. Drugs and sex and booze. So Carl came back. 

 

He came back and he drank and he did any drug offered and then... then he met him. He stood almost as tall as the door, a dark leather jacket wrapped around his arms and caught in the smoke filled, dull lighting of the pool hall. The entire room fell quiet, each person's eyes landing on him. His boots drug across the ash covered floor while he was bobbing his head to the too loud music blaring throughout the enclosed space. People stared, including Carl. Some looked fearful, but Carl was entranced. Several people followed him, all dawning the same shit eating grin and leather jacket. 

 

The man's name was Negan and he was a walking masterpiece. Long legs bled into a muscular torso, honey kissed tan skin covering him from head to toe. Negan was the first man who didn't look repulsive in the bad lighting. The darkness below his eyes fit him. As he walked to the bar, he snapped and told the crowd one thing: "As you were." With that, everyone turned around, drinking, moaning, and playing whatever game they were playing. Carl didn't go back to the way he was. He stared at Negan, chewing on his lip.

 

His men followed him, sitting all around him and ordering a plethora of drinks Carl didn't even know the bar had. Carl had only heard rumors about the Anarchists. Boys in school tried to join but it was a tight knit tribe that the boy had to be invited into. Girls dreamed of being a gangsters wife and licking his wounds whenever he stumbled through the doorway and bled on the hardwood floor. Carl never imagined he would see them in real life. Witness how they all moved in time and seemingly knew what the others around them would do. 

 

Carl also certainly did not imagine Negan meeting his eyes and winking. He choked on the drink he had been nursing, covering his mouth and coughing. The snickering that filled the air was from the leather jackets around him while Negan just watched. Once Carl was able to breathe again, the wind was knocked out of him when a body sat down in the chair next to him that smelled like gunsmoke and vodka. 

 

"Hey, darlin'." 

 

Carl began to stare, obviously, wide eyed and suddenly remembered that he grew his hair out just for the sake of hiding. In school he was constantly harassed, so his long hair helped him blend in even more. But Carl wasn't lucky enough to blend in right now. "Uh-" 

 

"Don't worry, I won't bite." Negan's eyes raked over Carl's body. Elbows. Knees. Long legs. Awkward angles. Despite being seventeen he had yet to develop any sort of shape. He was long and knobby. Negan didn't seem to mind. "Not yet, anyway." 

 

"I… think you've got the wrong guy." Carl whispered, staring down at his lap. Suddenly, he was painfully aware of everything around him. The blaring music and the eyes locked on him. He wanted to sink down in his chair and disappear. 

 

Tattooed knuckles curled around the leg of Carl's chair, tightening their grip around the old wood and jerking it closer. Negan never took his eyes off of him. They bled into Carl's skin, digging deep like the blades Negan's men carry. "No. I think I got the right guy." He grinned. "How old are you?" 

 

"Seventeen." 

 

"Hm. Jailbait." Negan thought for a moment before pulling out a thick wad of cash and tossing it onto the beer slick counter. "It's not like I haven't done anything else illegal in my life. A young boy won't be the last nail in my coffin." 

 

Carl looked anywhere but Negan and he noticed. 

 

"Kid. I would like to look at you without your eyes looking away from me." Negan tilted his head up with hands coated in blood, just like his name. "Look… let me buy you a drink." 

 

"I'm illegal."

 

"People down here don't care about that and neither do I." His eyes glanced up at the T.V. on the wall playing the local news. He watched it for a few moments before turning back to Carl. "What will you have?" 

 

The small plastic cup of water in front of Carl was the only thing appealing. "I… only drink water." 

 

"Then I'll have a beer." Negan smiled at the woman that was waiting for their order. "You look awfully familiar, you know that? Your brother part of my tribe?" 

 

"No." Carl chewed on his lip, bouncing his leg against the dirty floor. "But… my…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "My dad is the sheriff." He winced as the words fell from his lips but he couldn't find it in himself to lie. Carl waited for the sound of a gunshot or the stabbing of a knife. He closed his eyes and counted to ten and the world was still alright. 

 

Negan was grinning, pink lips curling around his white teeth that seemed sharper than normal. Maybe it was the shadows. "You Rick's boy?" 

 

Carl nodded, fearfully. 

 

"You sure as hell shouldn't be down here. So… why are you?" Negan took the beer and pulled the cap off, taking a sip. The tattoos on his hands stood out against his sickly pale skin due to the lighting. "You finally breaking the rules? Wanna be a bad boy?" 

 

"I… am sick of always doing what my dad wants me to. I'm tired of always being the perfect son. I wanted something new." 

 

"Well… you came to the right place." He raised his beer to Carl's lips. 

 

Carl parted his lips and allowed the harsh brown liquid into his mouth. He swallowed quickly, focusing on Negan's scent and not the overwhelming taste coating his tongue. When Negan finally pulled the bottle away, he gave Carl a sweet smile and took another drink. 

 

"Come back tomorrow night. I'll teach you how to be everything your daddy hates." 

 

Carl had counted down the hours, pacing in his room until Rick shouted at him. Rick. His dad. It may seem like Carl hated Rick, but he didn't. He hated the cookie cutter mold forced onto him from his dad's job and their status in the town. Everyone knew them. Lori, Rick, Judith, and Carl. They were the perfect family xdespite Lori's affair and Judith's misbehaving. The two let Rick down so Carl forced himself to keep going and make his dad happy. But god, Carl was sick of it. 

 

So when Carl climbed out of his bedroom window and rushed towards Enid's jet black car he muttered one thing: "I'm sorry I wasn't better."

 

Carl rushed embarrassingly quickly into the pool hall, feeling excitement bubble up when he saw Negan leaning back against one of the walls near the back. The back entrance was made for men like Negan. Men that wanted to be in and out without anyone noticing. Carl tried to force himself to slow down as he walked to Negan, but his feet carried him far too quick. 

 

Negan's body was hard against his. He was a dream. Pretty brown eyes and pink lips. Scruff coated his jaw and neck, rings covered his fingers, and tattoos could be seen through his white shirt. His voice was low and rough and it got Carl more drunk than any beer he could find. Tonight he smelled like copper and strong cologne.  

 

"You came." Negan whispered, eyes locked on Carl. The area smelled like sex and moans could be heard all around them. "I thought you would. You wanna piss off your parents?" 

 

"Just… wanna know who I am." 

 

Within an hour Carl was locked in a bathroom stall with Negan in between his legs. He kissed his mouth open and gripped his hips so rough Carl knew he would have bruises. Carl finally knew was a man tasted like. Heaven. Negan's thigh was in between Carl's and Carl found himself helplessly rutting against it and panting across Negan's lips. Negan tasted like sex and sin and vodka and everything Carl knew was wrong but craved to have. 

 

It continued like that. Carl would rush to the pool hall every night and spend hours licking Negan open. Some days dirty sentences dripped out of his mouth and other days all he did was groan and praise Carl. Carl was sure this was what love felt like. After six weeks of doing it, Negan kissed Carl goodnight. By ten weeks Negan allowed Carl to leave marks and by fourteen Carl was known as Negan's pool hall wife. 

 

Carl never knew, and still doesn't know if Negan had anyone else while they fell in love. For some it would matter, it would make or break their relationship, but Carl didn't mind. Negan still came back and waited for him every night. 

 

On the twentieth week of doing it, Negan drove Carl home and Carl considered them married, not that he would tell Negan that. Negan was his boyfriend. It had never been said, though. But they belonged to each other. Even if Carl didn't know what Negan did during the day. He always came back to him and that was what mattered. Carl was a home for Negan, even if that home was in a small stall in a sex filled, drug filled, gangster infested pool hall that had nine health code violations. On that night Negan made Carl promise to come back the next day and Carl counted the seconds until they were together again. 

 

Instead of staying in the pool hall, Negan pulled him to his car where they made love. Negan's sweaty knees digging into the leather as he kissed Carl's heart with every thrust. Carl could swear that Negan was deep enough for it. Negan kissed him on the mouth and told Carl that he was better than porn. That was their wedding vows. With each swore that fell from Negan's lips Carl swore that they were in love. This wasn't the normal thing. This was love making. Raw and painful and full of want. Negan wanted him. Negan loved him. 

 

And when Negan fell on top of him, sweaty and panting, his usual slicked back hair falling in front of his face, Carl kissed him and held him. 

 

"My dad's planning on coming to the pool hall." Carl whispered. "Someone tipped them off so they're closing it for a few days for "repairs" or whatever. Make sure you and your guys stay back." 

 

Negan smiled against Carl's skin, nodding. "Thanks for telling me, darlin." He kissed his collar. "Really appreciate it." 

 

Telling Negan what his father had been planning was their routine. Anytime anything that has to do with the Anarchists came up, Carl would tell Negan. Ever since they began doing this it had been even harder to catch them. Rick was well aware of who each of them were, but somehow, there was no evidence despite their knives being caked in blood and names with several bodies tucked beneath the belt. 

 

"Just wanna keep you guys safe." Carl leaned down and kissed Negan gently, rubbing his arm. Each and every tattoo on Negan told a story. One of pain or blood or love lost. Tattoos were for his memory, for his story to be told, so Carl eagerly waited for Negan to get a tattoo for him. Some sort of design to show how they were married and in love. Soulmates. 

 

"Mmm." Negan hummed, pulling Carl tight against his body. He kissed Carl's mouth and tugged on his lips. "My sexy little thing." He whispered. "Always takin' care of me. Kinda like a wide." 

 

Carl blushed bright pink, the type of pink that matched his soon to be legal lips. He ducked away and rested his cheek to Negan's shoulder. "Not a wife." 

 

"I think you wanna be. Always clinging to me." Negan whispered, tilting Carl's head up and looking down at him. "Do you wanna be my wife?" 

 

Carl nodded. Shy and so many shades of pink that he was now cherry red. Cherry red like Negan's lips that had been kissed so much they were swollen and wet. "Yes." He spoke softly. Love was strawberry red with pink undertones. 

 

A silver ring came off of Negan's finger that night. One of his most expensive. He slipped it onto Carl's finger and chuckled when it slid right off. His boy was thin, head to toe. His perfect little trophy wife. Instead of a ring on a finger Negan gave him a ring on a chain and slipped it around his neck. Carl felt ten pounds heavier just from it. Maybe it was the fully silver ring on a golden chain or maybe it was his heart filled with one thing. Negan. 

 

Carl was sure that they were in love, as in love as they could be. Every night was a date night for them. They would meet up at the pool hall and spend hours entangled in each other, never looking at anyone else. Negan's members would make fun of them, teasing Negan for being whipped on a jailbait boy whose limbs were too long and heart was too big. Negan loved Carl. He never said it, not seriously, but Carl could tell he loved him. 

 

He could tell in small gestures. Negan never had anyone else with him. No girls or boys or little fuck toys. Just Carl. He gave him presents. Jackets and shirts and jewelry and their wedding necklace and ring. Negan would always whimper when Carl pulled away and would beg to drive him home each and every day. He didn't care that Rick was tucked beneath the sheets only a floor below Carl when they snuck into his house through the window and made love in his house. Negan risked it all for Carl. That was love. Brutal. 

 

One night though, Carl skipped their date. He had finals coming up and as much as he loved rebelling, he had to keep his grades up so that his dad did not worry too much. Carl just needed a little bit of freedom and a little bit of a secret life. One his dad or sister or mom didn't know about. One where he had no mold to fit into and nothing expected of him. The real Carl got to be in love and kiss and be free in a smoke filled safe place and nothing was going to take that away, especially a bad grade or two. 

 

That night Negan came over for one reason and one reason only. He missed his wife. Carl. He pulled up out front in his jet black car, hair slicked back and rings glimmering in the lights from Carl's living room. Lori was knitting and Judith was playing dolls. Rick had just gotten home and was changing in his room while Carl studied and played with the pages of his math textbook. 

 

When someone knocked on his window Carl nearly jumped out of his skin. His house was quiet, so any noise he heard caused him to startle. He looked up and his eyes landed on dark ones and a sharp smile. Negan. Carl had to stop himself from stumbling out of bed and rushing into his lovers arms so hard they would fall out of the house. (He ignored the idea of a romantic, poetic, bone hurt death.) 

 

"Why are you here?" 

 

Negan chuckled. "That's a little harsh. I thought you would be happy to see me." 

 

"My dad's downstairs. My mom could see your car-" 

 

"You worry too much. Back up." Negan swung one leg into the window, straddling the windowsill and leaning back against the frame. "C'mon, I'll make you move if I have to." 

 

"They have been looking for you for years. You can't just sneak into the sheriff's house and assume you won't be caught." Carl whispered harshly. "I don't want you going away." 

 

"I won't. I know people." 

 

"You're being cocky." Carl rubbed his face, backing up. Negan was too stubborn to argue with.

 

Negan leaned in and captured Carl's lips. "You love it." 

 

Carl studied with Negan wrapped around him, pressing kisses to each and every mole on his body. Rick and Lori and Judith tucked themselves into their beds while Negan undressed Carl, kissing every patch of skin that showed. They made love inside of Carl's house, his entire family home. They made love with Negan wanting Carl in a way no one had ever wanted him. All because Carl wasn't at the pool hall and Negan missed him belly ache bad.

 

Tonight was different. Carl didn't only want to be at the pool hall, he had to be. The plan was to meet up with Negan and drive out to the House of Anarchy on the edge of town. Carl was going to become one of them. One of the men Rick hunted. Carl was going to get a Mark of the Anarchy and become one of them. An Anarchist. 

 

In his pocket was a knife. One with the Anarchy logo. A bat wrapped in sharp, jagged barbed wire. He smiled to himself and slipped the knife back into his pocket. Negan had given it to him as an anniversary gift and an invitation to be just as savage as all the other Anarchists'. 

 

Negan always told him that Carl was a loaded knife. He was a lot like Negan in that sense. They both preferred to use a weapon that gave them an excuse to get close to their victim. Others preferred guns, some because they were trigger happy and others because it was quick and easy and they didn't have to think. Just act. Carl liked the thinking aspect of it. The being close and in control. A gun killed. A knife took people apart nerve by nerve. He was able to break them down. See who they really were when it all went bad. 

 

Carl climbed out the window and shimmied doe the tree the same way he did for a little over a year. He ducked down and ran to Enid's car, smiling as she sped off. Carl stopped bothering being quiet when Negan came inside and no one heard a thing. Or they did but ignored it. Either way. Carl was eighteen and he was going to sneak out and live life no matter what his parents thought. 

 

Carl got out of the car and ran into the pool hall in a record time, holding the jacket Negan had given him close to his body. Negan welcomed him with open arms and kissed him gently, guiding him out to the back with a hand on the small of Carl's back. They made their way up the backstairs, slipping into Negan's car in a synced movement. Carl was now his right hand man. He beat out all the people he had known for a long, long time. 

 

"You're late." Negan said as they began to drive. 

 

"Isn't that what wives do?" Carl mumbled. "Be late because they gotta look good for their husband." 

 

"I think you wanna look good for all the men that are gonna be there." 

 

Carl leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Jealous." 

 

"Mhm." Negan put his hand on Carl's thigh, gripping it posessively. "So… when we get there I'm gonna do a speech and talk about shit and then you're gonna get your knife handed to you." 

 

"I already have it." 

 

Negan smirked. "Only because I like you. And you'll get a gun because guns are tradition. Then we'll all celebrate." He slid his hand higher on Carl's bony leg. His entire hand could wrap around it. 

 

Carl nodded. "You mean get drunk." 

 

"They are gonna drink but I am gonna be celebrating with something else." He guided Carl's hand between his legs. "How does that sound?" 

 

"Amazing." Carl had to resist the urge to unzip Negan's pants and blow him right there. Let Negan tangle his hair and gag him. "I don't get why we need a ceremony." 

 

"Tradition." Negan said. "And I am not gonna be the asshole that fucks up everything Simon made. That sorry son of a bitch will come back and kill me." 

 

"You better not die." Carl's fingers curled around Negan's leather jacket as they slowed to a halt. Black tar stretching across the sky, smoke pouring out of the house. "Think we could be fashionably late?" Carl slid his hand high on Negan's thigh. Nice pants stretched across his miles of skin. It was one of the few times Negan chose a suit instead of a leather jacket. And god, Carl loved it. 

 

"Save it for later." Negan took his hand and kissed his knuckles. "Wife." He opened the door and climbed out, looking over at Carl. "I got a real nice hotel room for us after." 

 

"Why need a hotel room when it'll feel just as good on these leather seats?" Carl got out and kicked the door shut, walking next to Negan and digging the knife from his pocket. He handed it to Negan and jabbed a finger into his chest. "Do not fuck it up." 

 

"I won't, I won't." 

 

Before they went inside, Carl stepped in front of Negan and fixed his tie and his hair. He made sure the tie was straight against his crisp shirt and that a few strands of hair fell across his forehead while the rest was slicked back. Negan kissed Carl's lips and pulled the door open, smoke and vodka filling Carl's nose. The house was hardly lit and the black darkness outside didn't make it any better. There were only leather jackets and their wives in the house, no outsiders and nothing deviating from the uniform. 

 

Carl smiled as he pushed past a few, standing off to the side of a faux stage. It was made up of a few tables and chairs creating a platform and stairs. Negan followed close behind, calling a few people's names and cheering. He followed Carl across the stage, smirking when Carl stumbled. The creaking of the wood beneath him startled him. Negan took Carl's wrist and pulled him in for one more kiss before pulling out his gun and firing three rounds into the already rotten ceiling. 

 

None of them jumped.

 

"Sorry we kept you waiting. We all know how women can be." Negan chuckled, looking at Carl and raising his glass of mystery liquid he must have gotten on the inside. He took a sip and grinned. "This is Carl. You all know him. He's loyal, more loyal to us than to his family. I uh… guess that makes him our family. He's strong and smart and he knows how to work well with others, better than Simon ever could. So… it's nice to be welcoming him in, not only as an Anarchist, but also as my right hand man. I've never had someone I can trust like him. And I got a good feeling about this boys." 

 

Carl rolled his eyes. Negan was never one to be sentimental, so his straightforward and awkward compliments were the best he could do. And Carl loved it. 

 

When Negan handed him his knife, they all cheered. Roared louder than Carl's family ever did when he made a goal at his stupid soccer games. Negan was right. This was his family. These people were the ones that knew the real him. That he could hustle pool and make boys weak just by walking past them. That he had been heart broken but none of it matters now because he has Negan. That Carl, all angles and sharp edges, was one of the softest people when allowed to be. That Carl was in love with the man his father was hunting. And that he helped Negan get away. 

 

The gun was heavy in Carl's palm and he paid little to no attention to it. The gun wasn't what he was excited about. Anyone could use a gun but this knife was just Carl's size. Slim and long. Sharp. Light. Carl slipped it into his pocket with ease and ducked into Negan's chest, tucking himself close to him. They looked over the people around them. Drinking. Laughing. Dancing. Cheering. This was the one place Carl ever saw Anarchists smile in a way that wasn't dreadful or filled with cold blood and sharp teeth. Despite their names dripping in blood, they laughed lightly. Rick always forgot that they were humans too. Carl never did. They were his people. Each one of them.

 

"All of this is yours now." Negan whispered, pressing a kiss to his head then his cheek. "They'll follow you..obey. You're gonna be right up there with me-" 

 

"Even if things go south." Carl wasn't in this because it was easy. He was in it because it was home. His home. And his people. And his Negan. 

 

"They won't." Negan replied simply. "But if they did, yeah. You'll be with me til' the end." He tucked his hand in the back of Carl's jean pocket. 

 

"Mhm." Carl pulled him into a deep kiss. "Right up until the very end." He had a morbid ache-love for dying together. Not even bullets and cope can separate them. They were real. Realer than anyone else in that same town. "I-"

 

Negan was distracted when Carl opened his mouth and began to speak again. He kissed at his neck and held him close, trapping Carl against his strong body. Carl closed his mouth and leaned against him. Welcoming Negan. All of him. 

 

"Now…" He kissed his jaw. "You ready go raise some hell?" 

 

Carl grinned, curling his fingers around his knife. "Yes."


End file.
